Fix A Heart
by XxgawjussemokidxX
Summary: It's adventure camp time for the students of Camelot High. Once a well-loved tradition, now a way to get all students to understand and appreciate each other. Will two students be brought closer together than intended?
1. Chapter 1

Arthur Pendragon.

Arthur Pendragon embodied the stereotypical popular boy with all the elements Merlin abhorred. There were enough American television shows with jocks having stories to prove that they weren't all two-dimensional twats, and while Merlin was sure that Arthur Pratdragon wasn't entirely intolerable and might have a couple of satisfactory qualities, he sure as hell never witnessed them.

They were, essentially, opposites. Completely and irrefutably opposites. The day they met, Merlin chastised Arthur for being a dick to another student, and then Arthur was a dick to him. It got Merlin a bit of a bad reputation. After all, he was a newbie at the sixth form, not to mention somewhat of a loner. The type of kid who'd probably run a shady hipster blog in their spare time with nebulas and fish-eye pictures of greyscale lawnchairs.

In actuality, his blog was full of Potter Puppet Pals and Sherlock, but that's beside the point.

Arthur Pendragon and Merlin Emerson were like yin and yang, only less poetic: they butted heads once and bestowed glares upon one another whenever they passed each other in corridors, Arthur's football mates took the liberty of putting down Merlin's name on an audition for Romeo and Juliet as Juliet, and in retaliation Merlin had sneaked into the locker rooms to replace soap with itching powder and deodorant with perfume.

Those were merely a couple of the many reasons why Arthur should not be within the same vicinity for an elongated period of time, none of which the teachers found valid at all, and so here they were - sitting beside each other on a coach on a school trip.

Smashing.

Merlin almost wished he hadn't saved up for this trip. He worked part-time in a library after school, and as a receptionist at a clinic on weekends, facing school kids who left revision to days before exams that screamed at him and elderly people with dying pets that made him feel just as morose as they were. No wonder Will laughed at him all the time. He had no right to do so, however; Will was still not forgiven for killing Merlin's goldfish when they were five.

His reminiscing was brought to an abrupt halt when one of his earphones was wrenched from his ears. He breathed deeply, willing himself not to react because he should be used to this, damn it, and Arthur's friends could probably hurt him pretty easily.

It hadn't been fun discovering that.

"What?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant rather than agitated, as that only prompted them to act more like gits than they already were.

"I asked how you got on this trip, Emerson," Player Nine-Merlin couldn't remember ever learning his name at all-drawled, eyebrows raising.

"I paid," replied Merlin shortly, offering a small smile and getting a glare in return. All right, sarcasm not appreciated then.

"Jake, just - just stop, yeah? Stop haggling innocent people and go back to sexting your girlfriend. On a Blackberry. Classy, by the way," another guy piped up, before leaning over Merlin's seat and giving him a lopsided smile. "Merlin Emerson, right? I'm Gwaine, and I apologise on behalf of all of us for being forced to be near Arthur."

At this point, Arthur finally stopped ignoring Merlin entirely and looked away from his book. Merlin tried to glimpse the title for curiosity's sake, but Arthur seemed adamant on not letting him. "Gwaine," he began cordially, smile condescending and warning, only with the slightest hint of amusement in his eyes, "do stop talking. You lower the IQ of the whole coach."

Gwaine opened his mouth to object, but Merlin found himself cutting in abruptly, "Are you quoting Sherlock?"

Arthur glanced at him, appearing conflicted in answering. Merlin's sudden excitement over discovering someone else who liked Sherlock dwindled in response to Arthur's hesitance to acknowledge his very existence. He felt stupid and more than a bit embarrassed, so he moved to duck his head and ignore them again, but finally received a begrudging response. "Yeah, I am." Before Merlin could debate about striking up conversation about it, Arthur turned to scowl at Gwaine. "I swear, any Arthur and Merlin references-"

"Nah, I'm done for now. Let it all out to you before the trip," Gwaine promised.

"Speaking of which," Number Nine said, apparently undeterred, "why are you here again, Emerson?"

"Jake," Arthur said exasperatedly, sounding as if he'd had to rebuke his teammate on more than one occasion. Merlin wasn't sure if to feel grateful for Arthur's interference, or irritated. The latter was probably safer; wouldn't do to sacrifice his rivalry with Arthur. It was a big part of what kept him going during school days.

"Nah, I mean," Jake persisted, "Emerson here, he used to work at - Shit, what's it called? Some shop I take my girlfriend to, Primark or something - and just, he always..." Arthur shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not amused as he normally seemed when he teased Merlin. Merlin just sort of wished he would, just for once, tell his braindead friend to stop talking. "Just, you're lucky to get into our sixth form at all, y'know? And you can apparently afford coming on trips with us. It's like... I mean, are you a charity or do you deal drugs? 'Cause I-"

"Jake," said Merlin, putting his earphones back in slowly, "do stop talking; you lower the IQ of the whole bus."

There was only a minute pause as Jake baulked, affronted and astonished, before Gwaine started laughing and smacking Jake on the back, forcing him to sit down and stop pestering Merlin. Finally, tension drained from Merlin's hunched shoulders and he leaned back into his seat with a sigh.

For a moment, he thought he caught Arthur smiling.

As quickly as the smile had appeared, it had disappeared and was immediately replaced with a fierce scowl.

Merlin rolled his eyes and turned all of his attention to the small ipod in his hand, choosing to play his songs at its loudest volume; drowning out the sounds of the coach's occupants.

Hearing Merlin's music blasting through the headphones, Jake smirked and reached for the rugged backpack lying under Merlin's chair.

"Let's see what he's got. There's no way he could have afforded to come on this trip without doing something dodgy." he muttered to himself. Grasping the tattered straps, he gave a sharp tug to lift it onto his lap. Gwaine, noticing his friend's actions, leaned over and gripped his wrist tightly.

"Mate, what are you doing? Just leave Emerson alone, he's not doing anything to you."

Jake raised an eyebrow, irritated that Gwaine had the audacity to tell him what to do, before shrugging his arm out of Gwaine's hand, and rifling through the backpack. Narrowing his eyes, Gwaine growled, and made a frantic lunge for the backpack. (He would later note that this was not the smartest move he has ever made.) Unfortunately for Gwaine, Merlin and Arthur, the event that followed did not seem to work out in any of their favours.

In Gwaine's case, it was as though time had stopped. He saw Merlin's backpack fall to the floor in slow motion, the contents spilling all over the gangway of the coach floor. He barely registered that he was already halfway out of his seat, until he found himself face down or the floor in an undignified manner (this was no way for a Knight to be seen) - legs in the air and his prized possession (hair) strewn across his face and the dirty floor.

Arthur - having been disturbed yet again from his riveting yet secret book, turned around, ready to yell at his Knights, only to find himself face to face (well, cheek) with Gwaine's perfectly formed arse. He stopped himself from staring, and turned his attention to the items on the floor. Rolling his eyes, Arthur skirted around Merlin's chair, careful not to disturb the seemingly asleep pale boy, and bent over to pick up the items. Unfortunately, Merlin woke up at that exact moment and took in the scene around him.

He saw Arthur picking up a small leather bound diary and snapped.

"You prat! What gives you the right to snoop through my personal belongings!"

Arthur stared at the normally quiet boy's sudden outburst.

"You think that because you're a Pendragon and a Knight that you can do whatever the hell you want?" Merlin continued, wrenching the book out of his hand.

"But I - " Arthur was interrupted by a loud laugh.

"Look everyone, Emerson brought a stuffed dragon with him!" Jake announced to the coach, holding up a small, worn red dragon for everyone to see. Merlin stared in horror, his blue eyes wide, mouth slightly open.

"Give him back" he muttered in a hollow tone. Jake just ignored him and continued to wave the dragon around, laughing with everyone else.

Arthur watched in fascination as Merlin seemed to go through a variety of emotions - shock, anger, sadness, determination in less than a second. Noticing that Merlin's eyes were slightly wet. Arthur sighed and turned away, trying not to make things more awkward than it already was. A hand clapped Jake's shoulder, while another plucked the dragon from Jake's grip. The owner of the hands was Lance, a man of average height and build, with tanned skin, who also happened to be Arthur's vice captain, but was a better man in spite of it. Lance walked forward and handed the dragon back to Merlin with an apologetic smile. Turning around he sent a sharp glare to everyone who was laughing, which immediately shut them up.

Suddenly, there was a loud screech and everyone covered their eyes. "Sorry about that" the voice of their teacher boomed, "We have arrived at Camp Albion, so please gather your things and be prepared to leave the coach."

The boys lined up in front of the reception, all of them jostling each other in their haste to find out who their room mates were.


	2. Chapter 2

Looking at the list pinned to the wall, the boys started to walk off in pairs, grinning and chatting to their roommates. Arthur strode up to the list purposefully, secretly crossing his fingers that he wouldn't be sharing with Jake or Lancelot. Not that he had a problem with Lancelot, he just happened to be dating his ex girlfriend, Gwen, who just so happened to be attending the same camp with her school.  
Scanning the list quickly, he let out a relieved sigh when he didn't see Jake's name next to his. Wait...  
"Merlin?"

Merlin jerked his head as he heard his name called out. Narrowing his eyes in suspicion when he realised it was Captain Prathead who had called his name, he walked over "What?" He ground out.

"We seem to be roommates" Arthur ventured, aware of Merlin's sudden mood swings.  
Merlin snorted derisively and took a look at the list. "What? Nononono this can't be happening to me!"

Arthur rolled his eyes, and dragged the still protesting boy towards the lifts with surprising ease.  
Before he knew it, Merlin found himself inside a nicely furnished room with two beds next to each other. Blinking, he realised that Arthur had already chosen his bed, unpacked, and was now lounging on his chosen bed flicking through the television channels.  
Grumbling, Merlin began to unpack his tiny-in-comparison-to-Arthur's duffelbag. He threw his books onto the dressing table, and hovered over his stuffed dragon.  
"If you don't mind me asking, what's with the dragon?" Arthur queried with an unusually calm voice, noticing his hesitation.  
Merlin sighed. "It was the last thing my father gave me before he died." He answered shortly before walking out of their room, surreptitiously wiping at his eyes.  
Arthur stared after him, before doing something uncharacteristically nice. He walked over to his bag, pulled out the dragon and placed it on top of Merlin's pillow.

He jumped as the door flew open, and Merlin bounded in. "What are you doing? Sherlock's on!"

Arthur didn't realise he was smiling until Merlin grinned back, a small uninhibited beam that forced Arthur to avert his gaze and force the strange tugging at his lips to ebb. He cleared his throat and nodded awkwardly, taking a moment for Merlin's words to sink in.

"Right, yeah," he agreed, fumbling for the remote control as Merlin approached his bed, freezing for a moment when he noticed the dragon on his pillow. Arthur licked his lips anxiously, not sure why he was feeling so apprehensive of a skinny social outcast like Merlin, and watched out of his peripheral vision as Merlin gently picked up the plush toy and held it in his lap as he sat down, saying nothing.

The silence was stifling, almost suffocating. Arthur wanted to know what Merlin was thinking, and he was more than a little bit irritated with himself for wondering, and he was more than excessively frustrated that he couldn't understand why he wanted to know. He couldn't stand the silence a moment longer; every second of quiet ebbed like an everlasting wave, and there was a shrill ringing in his ears like a teapot boiling.

Arthur switched the telly on.

x.

"I was so alone, and I owe you so much," Arthur quoted, still gazing intently at the television despite the fact that Sherlock had ended more than a few minutes ago.

Merlin was gripping onto his dragon tightly, eyes wide. "But please," he continued in a trembling voice, exhaling shakily, "there's just one more thing, one more miracle, Sherlock…"

"For me," they finished together, "don't be dead."

There were a few moments of silence, and then Merlin turned to Arthur and grinned again. "That was amazing," he breathed, excitement shining in his eyes.

Arthur chuckled lightly. "God, it was," he said, leaning back onto his bed and exhaling. "Sherlock's a genius."

"A complete wanker, but a genius nonetheless," Merlin said, loosening his clutch on his dragon.

"A wanker?" Arthur repeated incredulously, torn between Merlin's accusation and the fact that such a seemingly cliché Good Boy would use any derogatory term.

"Yes," Merlin said, turning to stare at him with raised eyebrows. "He's insensitive—remember what he said when he got that present?—and he said himself that he's a 'highly functioning sociopath', not to mention Arthur Conan Doyle wasn't even fond of his own character…"

"Okay, yeah, but…" Arthur began, surprised. He'd always sort of admired Sherlock Holmes. For his intelligence, yes, but also for his ability to cut off his feelings. Merlin made it sound as if it were a bad thing though. "He's – The man's a genius."

"Obviously," Merlin said, giving him a wry look that rather reminded Arthur of John Watson. "But just because you're bloody brilliant at something, it doesn't give you the right to be a prick to people." He shrugged, but didn't look away from Arthur. "He has John to keep him in line though."

"Keep him in line," Arthur reiterated with a snort. "You make them sound like a married couple."

"They practically are," said Merlin, and then swiftly averted his gaze after that.

Arthur blinked owlishly at him, brows furrowing in confusion, before he shook his head. He didn't really want to understand Merlin anyway, since they'd only be here for a couple of weeks. He was sure he'd manage with the—with Merlin until then.

He wasn't really sure what to think of Merlin. When they'd first met, it had been catastrophic; Merlin had accused Arthur of bullying another student and then had the audacity—and stupidity—to argue with him. It hadn't really ended the way it should have, and Arthur did sort of regret the fact that two of his less… tolerant team mates had decided to lock Merlin in a supply closet all day, but there wasn't really anything he could do about it now, was there?

After that, they mostly ignored each other. Or, well, Arthur tried his hardest to disregard the crumpled heap of Merlin when one of his team-mates or friends tripped him up, and he attempted to overlook the exhausted Merlin who seemed to end up in the medical room with injuries despite not taking any sports.

Now, however, while they were stuck sharing the same room, it was going to be rather tricky to pretend that Merlin wasn't there. And it was just irritatingly and worryingly difficult to get frustrated at Merlin when he was holding a bloody dragon plush toy and gushing over Sherlock.

"His name is Aithusa," Merlin said suddenly, and Arthur jerked his head up, feeling strangely ashamed when he realised he was staring.

"Uh," he said articulately, raising his brows. "What?"

"My—my dragon," Merlin mumbled, ducking his head as his ears flushed. "His name is Aithusa."

Yes, it was infuriatingly difficult to dislike Merlin.

A thousand and ones words scattered through Arthur's mind as he gazed at Merlin, hunched over his—Aithusa and blushing, some being shoved violently into the abyss of his mind, and others perhaps being too cruel to say, words he knew would earn him highfives and fistbumps from some guys on his team and punches to the arm from Gwaine and disappointed scowls from Lancelot.

Finally, he settled on saying, "You're such a girl, Merlin."

He wasn't sure if Merlin flinched at that or if he just seemed to look up so quickly that it hurt, but the glare he directed at him was smouldering with embarrassed fury and his shoulders were hunched and fists clenched. Initially, he looked like someone ready to pounce and fight, but being a kickboxer and a regular participant in fights that ended up getting him grounded, he soon realised that Merlin looked more like a defensive animal.

Not a cute one though. Not like kittens. Fucking hell, a couple of hours near Merlin and he was thinking of kittens.

"You, Arthur Pendragon," hissed Merlin, "are a complete prat."

With that, he stood abruptly, pausing for a moment before stuffing Aithusa under his pillow, and then escaping the room.

Arthur was left with the final thoughts of why the hell he recalled the toy's name, and where on earth Merlin could possibly wander off to without any friends.

Before he could feel guilty for anything, he grabbed his phone and punched out a hasty text to Leon.

'Mate, wanna go get some beer? Jake and Gwaine brought some with them.'

He left the please unspoken, but Leon would be able to see it anyway. Arthur wasn't one to speak his heart or his mind to anyone, even Leon, but Leon knew that Arthur wasn't really comfortable or content around many of his friends. He once tried to advise Arthur to make friends outside the football team and stop making enemies of people in kickboxing and his father's parties and generally most other people, but all Arthur said was, "I can't," and then promptly threw up a day's worth of bad alcohol.

They hadn't really talked about it again.

'Sure,' replied Leon, 'meet me where the coach left us.'


	3. Chapter 3

Merlin awoke to the sounds of hushed voices and thumps coming from the hallways. Groaning, he looked at the clock on his table. "2 am?" he muttered. Rolling out of his bed ungracefully, he walked towards the door, tousling his unkempt hair, whilst yawning. As he neared the bane of his sleep deprived the state, he heard voices coming through the thin walls.  
"Sshh. Come on Arthur, get up." a deep, exasperated voice whispered.  
"How dare you call me Arthur?" Arthur hiccupped drunkenly. "I am a King!" his voice grew louder with this claim.  
Merlin pulled open the door, ready to yell at Arthur for being drunk, unaware that Arthur was leaning against it. So naturally, Arthur fell backwards, narrowly missing Merlin, still giggling. Merlin gaped, not quite comprehending the scene in front of him, still stuck in that place between being asleep and awake.  
Leon hurried forward, shooting Merlin an apologetic look, before trying to pull Arthur up unsuccessfully. "I'm really sorry about this Merlin." he apologized.  
Merlin blinked a few times before sighing. He slowly walked over to Arthur's side and grasped his flailing arm. "How did he even get this drunk?" he yawned.  
Leon grimaced. "Honestly, I have no idea. He texted me, we went out, and BAM! Drunk Arthur."  
They both groaned as the heaved Arthur up off the floor. "You know what? I don't want to know what happened." Merlin muttered. Dragging a semi conscious Arthur to his bedroom, the two boys dumped him unceremoniously on the bed and retreated quietly.  
"I'm really sorry Merlin. I know he's not you favourite person, but he is better than you think. You just need to get to know him." Leon proffered his hand for Merlin to shake.  
Merlin took his hand and sighed. "I'm not sure I have that much time or patience."

xxx

CLANG!  
Arthur awoke with a start, and clutched at his throbbing head. Groaning, he tried to roll out of bed, and landed on the floor.  
CRASH!  
Narrowing his bloodshot eyes, Arthur stumbled towards the kitchen where he knew the source of the noise to be. Shielding his eyes against the harsh glare of the sun, he growled.  
"Merlin."  
He padded forward, wincing as the reason for his pounding headache cheerfully dropped a pan onto the work surface.  
Grinning at Arthur's plight, Merlin greeted Arthur in a bright tone (which in Arthur's book should really be prohibited) - "Good morning Pratdragon! How's your head?"  
Arthur groaned in response, flopping onto the couch face first.  
"Don't forget, we have fencing as out first activity!" Merlin cried, leaving the cabin whistling obnoxiously, but not before slamming the door behind him.  
Arthur jumped and promptly fell off the couch, too hungover to find the pills that Merlin had kindly laid on the table next to a plate of bacon.  
xxx  
"Good, just remember to lunge with your right leg." the fencing instructor explained as Merlin walked up to the 'arena'. noticing that he was the first of his school there, he took a seat and watched as the two fencers continued to spar.  
"And point goes to Team Druid! Go clean up!" the two fencers shook hands and headed towards the changing rooms. Merlin stood up, impressed by the skills on display, and ventured forwards nearing the winner. He stopped as the winner removed their hood, and long black locks of hair tumbled out, framing a perfectly sculpted feminine face with plump lips, high cheekbones and bright blue eyes.  
Merlin's eyes widened as he this beautiful woman before him. The girl noticed and smiled, walking over to him. The angel opened her mouth and; in a lilting Irish accent spoke  
"Hi, I'm Morgana."

Merlin absently remembered that he shouldn't stare at people for a prolonged period of time, and then smiled and flushed and fumbled to shake her hand. "Oh – um, I'm Merlin," he said quickly, stumbling over his words as if unable to get them out fast enough, trying to compensate for the wasted seconds he'd spent blinking owlishly at her.

She didn't seem to perturbed by his social ineptness that people often made fun of him for, but instead smirked. "Nice to meet you, Merlin," she said, giving a sharp shake to his hand that tugged him forwards slightly. "Oh, sorry," she apologised with a small chortle, "I've – I tend to do that, especially since I just finished fencing."

"It's fine," Merlin assured her, untroubled. He had pride, but he didn't find it was sacrificed just because a girl was stronger than he was. Not that he was weak; it was just evident that this girl was well practiced in this sort of thing. Merlin wasn't the best at sports; at primary school, his friend, Will, had been the only one to pick him when they had to form teams, and usually Merlin was just hit in the face. Sports were just – they weren't his thing. "That was amazing, by the way," he said, smiling.

She chuckled again, eyes sparkling with mirth. "Thank you," she said, obviously having heard it a lot but exceptionally pleased nonetheless. "Years of practice." She tossed her hair back, out of her way, and then her gaze drifted behind Merlin and her brows rose. "Oh, look who's here," she murmured, somehow managing to sound both wry and amused.

Merlin made an inquisitive noise before turning around, noticing Arthur stumbling towards them, hand pressed against his forehead as he grimaced. Merlin sighed and squirmed uncomfortably, not sure if Arthur would be pissed off enough to start arguing with him in front of someone. Before he had the chance to slip away, Arthur had approached and grabbed his shoulder.

"Ugh, Merlin… You obviously have a sadistic streak that nobody knows about," Arthur muttered, but didn't sound overly furious enough to grab fencing equipment and kick his arse.

"I left you painkillers and breakfast on the nightstand," Merlin replied with a small shrug, carefully easing out of Arthur's grip on his shoulder. Arthur didn't seem to want to hurt him, but it had become somewhat instinctive to avoid physical contact.

Arthur finally looked up, surprise and confusion evident on his features, and he opened his mouth to respond before finally registering Morgana's presence, sparing her the briefest of glances before his expression closed off entirely, brows drawing back downwards like a veil, shoulders tensing, and eyes becoming hard and icy. "I didn't notice," he said absently to Merlin, but was looking at Morgana.

"Hello, Arthur," she said lightly, voice deceptively casual and airy, despite her tightened grip on her fencing hood and the thinning of her lips. "It was nice to meet you, Merlin. Hopefully I'll see you around." She offered him a smile before glancing back at Arthur. "I have to go and meet up with Gwen. Goodbye, Arthur."

With that, she turned abruptly on her heel, and left swiftly, leaving a bewildered Merlin standing beside what seemed to be a fuming Arthur. "Gwen?" Merlin murmured, turning to Arthur. Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly, still glowering where Morgana had disappeared, and Merlin decided not to pursue the subject. They weren't friends, after all, and Arthur was… He was Arthur. He wouldn't talk to Merlin about anything. "Since you didn't notice the painkillers and breakfast, do you want to go and find somewhere to get water before we start?" he offered, and feel his stomach churn slightly when Arthur finally looked at him again. He felt a bit stupid for suggesting it – Arthur was most assuredly not his friend, they were stuck together, Merlin with Arthur, the prat with the outcast; he would not voluntarily spend more time with someone as 'low status' as Merlin.

"Arthur! Oi!"

Finally, the intense gaze Arthur had fixed on Merlin snapped away to find his friends, and he seemed to falter for all of a second before almost deflating and then turning to Merlin. "Nah, it's… Thanks, but – I can't," he said, and Merlin couldn't decide if the words sounded forced or – or if he just felt weird because the freak with a dragon plush had just asked if he wanted to go get a drink of water together—

"Arthur! Fuck's sake, come on! Stop talking to—"

"Jake, just shut…"

"Nah, he's right, Pendragon's staying with the fag, he doesn't have to spend more time with him."

Worse than the restrained rage on Arthur's face when he saw Morgana, now there was nothing. Merlin hadn't been suggesting anything, but now thanks to Arthur's stupid friend he'd think that Merlin was – was flirting with him, or something, and Merlin would never want to do that with Arthur, of all people. "That's not what I—"

"I've got to go, Emerson," said Arthur, voice cool and calm and giving away nothing, only succeeding in making Merlin want to tear out his hair in frustration. Where had Emerson come from? He hadn't been so icy when he wasn't around those stupid wankers who had no damn right to—

"Sod off then, Pendragon." Merlin spared Arthur a scowl, the familiar humiliated fury from years of derogatory terms thrown in his face reflected in his eyes, and turned away. "I hope you lose to Morgana."


	4. Chapter 4

"Okay. I understand that we're having a friendly match between Druids and Knights" the instructor chortled with glee, "Challengers, step up to your marks!"  
Arthur strutted forward, hand raised to all the cheers, despite his horrible headache. Merlin rolled his eyes and remained silent on the sidelines. Arther looked around at the faces of all his cheering peers, not completely shocked that Merlin was not one of them. However. He felt a weird twinge deep inside, and, not recognising it, passed it off as part of his hangover. Morgans watched Arthur like a hawk, cataloguing each of his expressions and reactions, filing them away for later use. Contrary to popular belief, Morgans wasn't a 'witch' as Arthur had so often described her, she did genuinely care for her oblivious cousin, and wanted him to be truly happy for once. Sure, she was just like Arthur in the sense that she didn't show her emotions often, but she'd be damned if she couldn't help Arthur for once be himself.  
"Ready cousin?" Arthur smirked.  
"You haven't beaten me yet!" Morgans retorted eagerly.  
"Enguarde!" They both cried, before leaping into an assortment of lunges, parties and swift cuts. Very soon all that could be heard was the clashing of rapiers and the laboured breathing of the participants. Morgana soon forced Arthur backwards towards the open grounds, startling the rest of the campers that were lazing around outside. The rest of the teams raced out, eager not to miss any of the gripping duel. The two continued to parry, clambering over low walls, jumping over logs, coming to the bank of the river, still oblivious to their surroundings.  
Merlin followed at a slower pace, choosing not to be stuck in a crowd of mindless roots, cheering for their clotpole of a 'King'. He sidled over to a mostly empty part of the sidelines, and watched Morgana as she continued her agile footwork. He grinned as he heard her taunt Arthur - "Come on cousin! Surely you can beat a girl?" - and chuckled quietly at Arthur's reply "You're not a girl! You're the spawn of the devil!"  
"She's very good isn't she?" A quiet voice said from beside his shoulder.  
Merlin let out an unmanly yelp and jumped at the sight of a young girl standing next to him. "Where the hell did you come from?" He asked, steadying himself with the barrier he had previously leant on. He took a moment to study the girl, she was short (she only came up to his shoulder) had pale skin with rosy cheeks, brown eyes that sparkled with mischief and laughter, but there was a hint of someting else, something Merlin couldn't grasp, she also had wavy chestnut brown hair which was currently tied in a ponytail - only a few tendrils had escaped and framed her face like a portrait  
"Yeah, she is." Merlin replied after a moment's silence.  
The girl grinned "I'm Freya, you're Merlin right? 'Gana told me to look out for you."  
Merlin frowned, "Why'd she tell you to do that?"  
"Don't worry Merlin, she said you could use a friend, seeing as Arthur won't stop being a Class A git anytime soon."  
Merlin shrugged and started up a conversation with her about anything, becoming oblivious to the match in front of him.  
Xxx  
Arthur growled as Merlin continued to talk to Freya, becoming more and more distracted from the match. Suddenly he found himself flat on his back, staring at the blue sky groaning in pain.  
"How do you feel cousin?" Morgana's face loomed above his, blocking the sun, looking like all that Arthur dreaded. Hearing the laughter of the crowd, Arthur grimaced and grabbed Morgans's outstretched arm, pulling her down to the ground, but unfortunately for him he also managed to pull her into the lake which had gone previously unnoticed. As Morgans emerged from the lake spluttering, her hair bedraggled and plastered to her face.  
"Oh god! Morgana I'm sorry! Please don't -" he trailed off as he saw Merlin walked off to the other end of the lake, holding hands with a ... girl. Arthur frowned, where had that thought even come from? He normally loved girls... Maybe it was his current aversion to Morgana, who was currently sneaking up behind him - wait what?  
"Crap" he mumbled as she launched herself onto his back, propelling him to the ground.

Watching Arthur had begun to make Merlin feel a little bit discomfited. He tried to brush it off, tried to tell himself that Arthur and his prats of friends shouldn't get to him, tried to tell himself that it was impossible for Arthur to make him feel bad if he didn't care about the tosser. And he didn't. Couldn't. Wouldn't.

Still, just... the expressions Arthur sometimes wore, whenever he thought nobody was looking - they made him look so morose and alone and human, and it made Merlin want to do something about it. He wanted to punch the prat and tell him to get over himself, that he wasn't fooling everyone with his stupid shield of Prince of Prats. God, Merlin wanted to do that, but he - he couldn't let himself.

"Are you all right?"

Thoughts vanishing like a shipwreck under the sea, Merlin blinked owlishly before smiling shyly at Freya. "Oh - yeah. Sorry. I just, um..." He trailed off, glancing back at where Arthur and Morgana were driving each other back, and suddenly his thoughts became fragmented.

Patient as a saint, Freya smiled at him, gently threading her delicate fingers around his wrist. "Would you like to go for a walk?" she offered, sounding uncertain but hopeful.

Honestly, Merlin - he was surprised. Not many people were very willing to voluntarily spend much time with him, and nobody had ever been this /nice/ to him before. Not even his best friend, but Will had never really been one for feelings. He acted like a man's man, at least until he and Merlin were alone, and then he'd transform into an affectionate puppy.

Thinking about how differently Will acted depending on who was around him reminded Merlin strikingly of Arthur and his weird behaviour. Thankfully, before he could explore those thoughts, Freya asked, "Merlin?"

"Sorry," he said jerkily, flushing. "I get - I daydream quite a bit." He grinned apologetically, cheeks dimpling, and Freya laughed softly. "I'd be honoured to walk with you, Miss," he said, exaggerated but somehow earnest, and she beamed, smile bright and sweet, but somehow not quite happy. Not wanting to pry, Merlin just smiled back and offered her his arm, but she just intertwined their fingers.

"Let me show you a place. I've been here before now - before I was friends with Morgana, too - and I made a little fort near the lake. It's lovely," she promised, tugging Merlin along.

"I'd like to see it," he replied, honest. She seemed so oddly melancholic despite her frequent smiles; anything that made her seem a little bit more content was fine with him. Besides, she was at least better company than Arthur, with all his contradictions: he seemed so bloody egoistical, or at least he had done when he and Merlin first met when he was being a right twat; but now, here, all Merlin could see was a boy who was too uncomfortable to himself to do anything but lie and pretend.

"We're here," Freya said, a quiet declaration, almost dreamy, and Merlin spared a moment to drink in her content, nostalgic gaze before looking into the foliage that formed an arch, lined with brambles and roses and interlaced branches that sat before the lake.

"It's beautiful," he said, turning to look at her. She caught his gaze and flushed slightly, but smiled back at him, and gave an almost trembling squeeze to his hand.

"I'm surprise it lasted for so long." She tilted her head, exhaling a strange-sounding sigh. "I'm sure after a couple more rainstorms, it's going to collapse..."

"We could always rebuild it somehow," Merlin said, before that consuming poignancy in her eyes could grow, but his words didn't seem to do much. She gave a little non-committal sound. "Besides," he continued, voice quieting down as birds sung and the sound of cicadas invaded the overhanging trees, "a lot of seemingly weak things can last a lot longer than you'd think. And even when they do disappear, you can still remember them."

He smiled at her, hoping his words helped somewhat, because he truly couldn't stand to see much more unhappiness. Arthur's entire being seemed to be collapsing beneath the weight of feelings he probably didn't know he had, and Freya just seemed so defeated. Merlin - he could heal cuts and scrapes, but he couldn't really heal hearts.

"Thank you, Merlin," Freya said, her voice a whisper, and she clutched his hand even tighter, as if it were a lifeline.

Arthur lay on the couch. Unmoving. Just breathing silently. He had a multitude of thoughts running through his mind, none of them that he found remotely comforting - surprisingly they all seemed to revolve around Merlin and his stupid ears. Breaking out of his reverie, Arthur sat up, folded his arms and fixed a stony glare upon the door where he could hear footsteps reaching. Merlin strode in whistling, looking rather please with himself.  
"Where HAVE you been?" Arthur growled, unaware of the jealousy he exuded.  
Merlin looked at him and burst into raucous laughter. Arthur frowned, confused at Merlin's momentary dip into insanity. "I'm sorry, - you just sounded so much like Molly Weasley from Chamber of Secrets, y'know?" He faltered as he saw Arthur's stern expression.  
"I am not a girl MERlin. Speaking of girls, why did you go off with that one, instead of staying and taking part? Scared to lose to a girl?" Arthur asked sullenly.  
"I'm pretty sure you getting beat by Morgana was enjoyment enough for the team. I didn't need them laughing at me as well. Anyway. 'That girl' is called Freya, and I thought you of all people would understand the point of going off with a girl!"  
Arthur gaped after Merlin's retreating back, rendered speechless. The pieces suddenly clicked in his kind, and he felt thay strange feeling in his gut again. Shrugging it off, he raced into Merpin's room, skidding to a halt as he saw Merlin wearing only a pair of tracksuit bottoms.  
Merlin frowned as Arthur opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish, no sound coming out. He moved closer and waved his hand in Arthur's face. He came out of his stupor, and continued to alk, avoiding the awkwardness that was sure to follow. "You kissed her didn't you!?"  
Merlin grinned shyly, and nodded.  
Arthur nodded to himself, formulating a plan to get close to Merlin, and a plan to get the Knights off his back for a while.  
"Merlin, I am going to teach you to woo this...girl." he spat out the last word with great effort.  
Merlin raised an eyebrow, "Why...why would you do that?"  
"I have my reasons" Arthur replied mysteriously.


	5. Chapter 5

Merlin was exceptionally dubious and gave an ambivalent response, hoping that Arthur would forget about it and never pursue the matter, but Arthur did appear eerily determined. Honestly, Merlin found it a bit odd that he'd asked in the first place. He and Arthur hadn't interacted very much since their first few weeks that they'd spent having glaring contests and trying to beat each other in PE. (Merlin had at least won at swimming, even if Arthur beat him at a lot more than that. And given him a black eye by kicking a football in his face. All right, recollections of moments that they didn't get along did not help to justify Arthur's weird behaviour here.)

"Do you like Freya?" Merlin hazarded reluctantly. He'd never seen the two interact, but with the way Arthur was acting, he seemed almost... jealous. But that was preposterous, wasn't it? He didn't know the girl obviously, he hadn't said her name. If he was just attracted to her aesthetically and only wanted her for - well, that - then Merlin would not allow it. Freya didn't look frail, but something about her made her seem so vulnerable; Merlin would readily defend her from advances she didn't want.

But his hypotheses was made null when Arthur's face twisted into a bemused grimace. "Emerson, I don't even know the girl," he replied, and then turned away to grab his phone, although it didn't look like he was really using it. "I know I seem like a stereotypical shallow jock or whatever," he said, frustration lingering in his tone, "I'd want to know someone before... well, you know."

Merlin frowned at Arthur for a long while, looking at him not as the popular guy or the jock, but just him as he was. And right now, he was hunched over, knuckles white as he clutched his phone, and pursing his lips, obviously thinking hard about something that Merlin wasn't sure he should enquire about. "You do seem it at first glance," admitted Merlin, and Arthur's eyes flickered up to his. "I mean, the first time we met, you were being a complete clotpole to some poor kid, and after that you didn't make the best of impressions. Whenever guys on your team sound like bigots, you don't do anything about it. But," he continued, just as Arthur grimaced and looked away, "you - you've never..." He sighed, shrugging his shoulders and feeling a bit awkward, giving this speech that probably sounded like something from a chick-flick. "It's like you try to be someone you're not."

The seconds dragged on when he stopped, the sound of the clock ticking loudly in the background like gunshots in his ears, until Arthur parted his lips, faltered, and then plastered a smirk on his face and said, "Right. Well, tell me about the girl you like. Freya, yeah?"

And for some strange reason, disappointment flooded through him like he was drenched in cold water, and Merlin just have an impatient sigh. "Yes, Freya," he said, but didn't elaborate, going to sit on his bed and face away from Arthur.

"How far have you-?"

"We just kissed, Arthur," he snapped, flustered and angry at the sudden change in his behaviour. For a moment, he caught a glimpse of that human, vulnerable Arthur that didn't act just like his stupid friends.

"No, I mean..." Arthur said, and Merlin felt his bed sink and bristled, knowing how close Arthur was. He shifted away slightly, folding his hands in his lap and looking down.

"She - I've never gone further than kissing," he mumbled shyly, feeling his face warm up and ears tingle as he dug his nails into his palms, knowing, just knowing that the bastard was going to laugh at him-

"Really?" He sounded choked, like he'd had to force the word out, and Merlin felt himself hunch over even more, giving a short nod.

"Yeah, and I don't - I don't plan to do anything else any time soon. Not until I - until I find someone I can... trust," he said, wanting to close his eyes and fall asleep and pretend Arthur was never there, wanting to send his twinging palms against Arthur's chest and send shockwaves through him to ensure he didn't remember this awkward conversation-

"That's - kind of pathetic, mate," said Arthur, and Merlin wanted to hit him. He ignored Arthur's hitched breath and the short pause, like he'd wanted to say something else, and just shot him a dark glare.

"Maybe to you," he snapped, standing abruptly, "but I actually care about people, so I'm sorry if I don't match your low standards of giving myself away to the first person who offers!"

With that, he left, slamming the door behind him and not sparing a moment to wait for Arthur to come and punch him in the face. Instead, he made to rush for the lake, both relieved and disappointed that nobody stopped him to ask if he was okay, and that Arthur was such an intolerable bastard.

Morgana frowned as she saw Merlin race past the girls' cabins. She turned at the sound of violent coughing. Her eyes softened as she saw her best friend Gwen hovering over a pale Freya. Gwen didn't even flinch as Freya rolled onto her side and vomited into the bucket next to the bed. Gwen simply continued to dab at he friend's forehead with a damp washcloth.  
Morgana walked over and took hold of Freya's clammy hand, she looked at Gwen's worried expression and furrowed her brow, silently asking what was wrong. Ferb glanced at Freya's relaxed form, before opening her hand to show Morgana the handkerchief Freya had coughed into.  
"Is that - ?"  
Gwen nodded, "yes, she's getting worse 'Gana. She started coughing blood after she came back from her 'date' with Merlin." Both girls looked at their friend tenderly, their eyes filled with tears.  
"I don't know what to do Gwen," Morgana whispered, "I'm trying to be strong, but I can't, I just can't." She started to cry, "I don't want to think of a future without her, I can't. She's practically another sister!" Gwen wioed away the tears that had fallen, and pulled Morgana into a hug, not speaking, unable to form the right words, the words that would make everything better because let's be honest, there are none. Nothing would ever make this pain go away.  
"You have to be strong." A weak voice whispered. They looked down and saw Freya watching them. She motioned to her friends to lie doen with her and snuggled closer to the warmth they provided. "I'm not gone yet, let's focus on now. On all the good times we're going to have."  
Gwen smiled, but froze after a moment. "what about - what about Merlin?"  
Freya faltered. "I don't want to talk about it."  
"But -"  
"No!" Freya snapped, turning away from Gwen's intense gaze.  
Xxx  
Merlin stood on the bank of the lake, skimming pebbles angrily. "Stupid Arthur. Damn insensitive prat! Didn't even say sorry." He kicked a tree violently and flopped to the floor.

xxx  
Arthur stared after Merlin as he stormed out. He bit his lip, as he thought about the conversation had just taken place. Sighing at his insensitive words (not that he'd ever admit it outloud) he collapsed onto the couch and proceeded to scram into a cushion. He didnt understand why he always ended up saying stupid things around Merlin. He didn't understand why he got a strange feeling in his gut everytime he upset Merlin. He didn't understand why he got tongue tied around Merlin. But most of all, he didn't understand why his heart started to beat faster whenever Merlin was in the nearby vicinity. It almost felt like he was in... /love/ ... With Merlin, but that wasn't right, it couldn't be love. He wasn't in love with MERlin. He was in love with girls. Not Merlin and his impossibly sharp cheekbones, scruffy hair, abnormally large, cute ears and piercing blue eyes that captivated him everytime he looked at -  
"Crap."

* * *

He hated crying.

All the other boys said that crying was for girls and just proved how weak you were, but he couldn't help it. He just felt so utterly miserable whenever he was around the others and he didn't even know why. He'd just never fit in. He remembered when he'd first started school, hopeful and excited and eager to make friends like the people he'd read about in storybooks with his mum.

Those dreams had crashed and burned like Iron Man's first attempt at using his suit. (Really, it was little wonder he was teased for being so into comic books at the time too, but he really loved Young Avengers, and his first crush may have been on Wiccan, but he had a boyfriend. It wasn't surprising that he hadn't thought of homosexuality as weird, at least not until he was older...)

No matter how he tried to fit in, his attempts were always dismissed with a cruel laugh and vindictive sneer and a shove into the mud. He returned home with scrapes and bruises and told his mum that he'd been playing football with the other kids. He didn't even like football.

But it - it was like never, never in his whole life had any one person accepted him for who he was. Will liked him, Will hugged him and promised to protect him from the jerks in their school when they picked on him and he thought Merlin's magic was amazing and not freakish, but when Merlin admitted he preferred men to women, Will hadn't initially reacted in the way Merlin had hoped...

"Merlin?"

He found himself jerked harshly from his reverie, tumbling back onto the brook and blinking owlishly up as Freya shuffled into the clearing, slumping against a tree while eyeing him in amusement and confusion. It took a moment to register before he started, heart jumping in his chest as he twisted enough to stand, grinning awkwardly at her. "Freya!" he said brightly, voice carrying across the lake, and he flushed slightly, embarrassed, but she just smiled. "Um. Hi."

"Hi yourself," she said, taking a moment before approaching him, the soft smile on her lips falling into a weak, nervous frown. "Merlin, I..." she began, and then folded her arms and rubbing them, looking like she wanted to hide herself. "I have to tell you something..."

* * *

Merlin looked at Freya's worried face and frowned. "Frey, you know you can tell me anything right?"  
Freya bit her lip and took a deep breath. "Merlin I...I...this is harder than I thought...I really like you, you know?"  
Merlin grinned, his heart jumping as he heard her say that, "I really like you too -"  
"I'm dying..." Freya blurted out, cutting Merlin off.  
Merlin stopped breathing for a second and just stared at Freya, searching her tear filled eyes for any kind of hint that this was a really cruel joke. Taking in the drops clinging to Freya's eyelashes, Merlin started to shake. "No. You can't be dying! You just can't!" He cried, tears falling freely.

Freya sat down next to him and laid her head on his shoulder. "I know its a lot to take in - "  
"How long?" Merlin interrupted.  
"They don't know." She whispered. "could be anything from an hour to a couple of months." She paused, "its why I try to live everyday to its fullest."  
Merlin nodded slowly, as he brought Freya closer to him. Lying on their backs, Merlin stared at the clouds, absent mindedly stroking her hair, thinking about everything he had been told.  
Hours later, Merlin awoke to drops of water falling onto his delicate cheekbones. Groaning at the sight of the heavy, dark clouds hovering ominously above his head, he sat up and reached out to wake Freya. Confused by her lack of response, Merlin turned to look at her and paused. She looked too pale, Hell! Even her lips were a pale shade of blue! In a flash, Merlin remembered everything she had previously told him.  
"No, nonono, Freya wake up! Please?" Merlin's voice cracked at this point. Freya wasn't moving, he couldn't feel a pulse. He couldn't believe it. Her last few hours, and he had been asleep! He felt so stupid and angry, and just to make his life even better, the Damn clouds decided to open up and rain. Not a pathetic drizzle but a full on downpour.

Merlin couldn't help it, he lost control. His eyes flashed gold, and a bolt of lightning struck the tree in front of him and completely obliterated it from existence. Panting heavily, he let out a loud scream of anger, tears falling, mixing with the rain.  
Xxxxx  
Arthur awoke suddenly as he heard the front door slam shut. Rubbing his eyes blearily, he padded out to the front room, halting as he saw Merlin dripping water and mud everywhere. Merlin looked like a drowned rat, his hair plastered to his forehead,.and his clothes sticking tightly to his body, but most of all, the thong that stopped Arthur from being a complete dick, was his eyes. His eyes were usually so bright and full of life, were dull and lifeless, the skin red and blotchy - he had been crying, Arthur noticed.  
He jumped as Merlin grabbed the vase from the table and threw it across the room, watching it smash into pieces. Merlin was like a hurricane of destruction, throwing anything and everything he could. In a split second, Arthur had crossed the room, and pulled Merlin into a tight hug on the couch, making sure that he couldn't hurt himself.  
He stiffened as he heard Merlin start to sob into his shirt. Awkwardly, he patted Merlin's back.  
"Why? Why did she have to die? Why does everyone leave me?"


	6. Chapter 6

Arthur felt his heart falter.

For all the uneasy nausea churning in his gut following his revelation, he couldn't... couldn't bring himself to untangle himself from this wayward embrace. He spelt an uncomfortable hot spark remembering that it was him who had initiated this - what could be perceived to be a hug, after vehemently denying that he might be... attracted to Merlin.

But he could feel Merlin's tears soaking into his shirt and he could feel him trembling in his arms, and he furiously shoved the thought of Merlin being so close to him to the back of his mind, back into its recesses because all we was doing was consoling a friend.

No, not that. Not friend. They hadn't - they weren't friends. Acquaintances, at most. More like enemies turned friendly rivals... although enemies was perhaps too harsh a word. They had clashed when they had met and still did, but neither intended any actual harm. Arthur's sports mates may have roughed Merlin up a bit a while back and it may have taken him a while longer than he'd like to admit to work up the guts to tell them to stop hurting innocent bystanders.

(He couldn't say not to hurt Merlin specifically. He couldn't say his name and not give something away. Whatever that something was.)

A shuddering sob and shaking hands against his chest alerted him to Merlin once more, and his mind unclouded and he focused on Merlin, swallowing back bile that rose when he heard his father's voice reverberate in his head, bigoted words spilling past his lips and gaze poisonous when he saw two men holding hands in the street, and now Arthur had one in his arms.

But he - he couldn't push Merlin away. He couldn't just tell him to fuck off and drown his sorrows in beer because Arthur didn't do feelings. With Gwaine and Leon, sure, but they usually took that advice before Arthur had to give it. Merlin did not seem like the type of person to run from his problems, but he did wear his heart on his sleeve, even if it was stitched over and concealed.

"Merlin?" he ventured warily, sort of tempted to play this off with teasing banter, but he knew he couldn't. Not when Merlin had tear-tracks covering his face and his eyes were red and he looked so... not fragile. Never that. But - it was... "Merlin, what happened?" he asked, but Merlin just bit his lip and looked away like he was guilty for crying, like he didn't want to say it - like he didn't want to tell Arthur. What hurt most was that Arthur knew he didn't really have any right to know, but- "You said - you said someone had died," he said, reluctant and blunt and not sure how to broach it. There was no flowery way to discuss death, no matter how his relatives tried when mentioning his mother.

"Freya," Merlin whispered, voice hoarse but steady, even if he didn't look it. "She told me she was sick," he said, swallowing thickly and gripping Arthur's shirt tighter. He probably wasn't even aware he was doing it, but Arthur was painfully so; he reached up to grab Merlin's wrists and Merlin started, jerking them back.

Arthur let him.

"She only told me - she only told me earlier, said she didn't have long left," he continued, looking like every word hurt to say, and he was breathing heavily like he couldn't get enough air. "And she didn't!" he said, barking a broken laugh that cracked.

He stopped there, eyes swirling with unshed tears that Arthur hoped wouldn't fall, if only because he didn't know what to do about them. He almost thought he saw gold sparks ignite, but told himself it was a trick of the light. It was then that he realised they had somehow found their way to Arthur's bed, sitting close enough for their legs to be pressed together, and Merlin's face was inches away from his. He felt his own gaze flicker down to Merlin's quivering lips and then guilty, angrily back up to his eyes, telling himself to just - just stop-

"And she just told me she loved me," Merlin choked out, gripping Arthur's bedsheet as he tried not to break down again, throat aching from the effort of holding it back. But he could do it, he could; he hadn't cried when people used to make fun of his ears, he hadn't cried when he'd been laughed at for not having a dad, he hadn't cried when he'd been forced to come out and found 'fag' engraved on his locker. He sure as hell didn't have to cry now.

For a fleeting selfish moment, Arthur could only wonder if Merlin had said he loved her too.

It was soon after the light ebbed through the ratty curtains of their hut did Arthur allow his eyes to flicker open. He had hardly slept at all and he could feel exhaustion clawing at him, making his body heavy and eyes sting. It was with a hollow ache that the recollection came, remembering last night's events, remembering Merlin's-

He'd been crying. And no matter what torment Arthur or any of his team mates had put him through before, Merlin had never cried.

But he had last night.

And Arthur had done absolutely nothing. What could he have done? Merlin had been falling apart, whispering broken words and old names and asking why people always left him, and Arthur hadn't said a word. He'd just listened, listened to the heartbreak that cracked Merlin's voice, and realised he knew nothing about him. Merlin was by no means delicate, but he had been through so much more than Arthur had ever even thought possible because the idiot just smiled so much.

At everyone but him.

And fuck, if it didn't make him feel so much worse with that treacherous jealousy gnawing at his insides when Merlin said that the girl had loved him. God, he was pathetic, envious over someone who was dead, and fucking hell, that was just wrong. The whole situation was wrong and he just couldn't quite grasp it. Guys were not meant to hold other guys while they cried. Fuck, he'd been raised to believe guys - no, men - weren't meant to have feelings at all.

And he certainly wasn't supposed to have feelings for another man.

He heard a sharp intake of breath and stilled, glancing jerkily towards his right to find Merlin sitting up in his makeshift camp bed, drowning in his too-large t-shirt, spindly fingers clenching the thin sheets in his lap, head bowed and eyes fluttering. He was obviously trying not to cry, and that relieved Arthur slightly, but at the same time it only served to increase his concern. He knew you couldn't recover from a loss like that quickly.

Merlin sat there for a long moment, still but shivering, and Arthur wasn't sure if it was from the chill seeping through the cracks or something else, but Merlin looked so devastatingly alone and yet he still couldn't bring himself to do anything but watch him. It was like they were separated by an unmovable glass wall and he could only see him, could never touch or speak or hear or understand.

Seeming to steel himself like it was hard to move, Merlin grunted as he slid his legs off of the bed and stood, wearily tugging up his jogging bottoms he wore to bed that hung loosely from his hips. Arthur fleetingly wondered what he'd look like in more form-fitting clothes, and even more airily wished to buy something warmer for him, before furiously erasing the thought and berating himself for it. Not only was - whatever this was - wrong, but Merlin was grieving and... well, actually, he wasn't. And that was the problem.

When Arthur emerged from his diverging thoughts, Merlin was dressed in more oversized clothing and scruffy trainers and weirdly luminescent rainbow socks, and he was shuffling from the room as if his steps sapped energy from him.

At that moment, Arthur really felt as big a prat Merlin had always accused him of being.


	7. Chapter 7

Merlin slunk into a pub near the dorms, thanking his lucky stars that he was one of the few students old enough to actually get served. Sitting on a stool, he motioned for the barman to pass him a pint. Catching the well aimed glass that slid across the bench, Merlin downed half of it in one go. Staring morosely into the bottom of the glass, he sighed loudly.  
"Penny for your thoughts?" A deep voice made him jump. Looking up, he saw the old barman watching him with a strange glint in his eye.  
Merlin sighed once again and suddenly began to babble about his life, Freya and Arthur to the bemused barman. Merlin paused, mortified at how easily he had spilt his guts to a random stranger, yet still found himself wanting to be polite, "Hi, I'm Merlin" he introduced himself belatedly. The barman chuckled and poured Merlin another drink.  
"Kilgarrah, but everyone calls me Kil" he smiled.  
Merlin raised his glass in a semi toast and drank it all in one swift gulp. Kil raised an eyebrow at Merlin's action and leant forward intrigued.  
"So, young Merlin, tell me how you feel about er... Freya?" He asked interestedly.  
Merlin sighed again."I don't know" he hiccupped, "I really like her y'know? Maybe even loved...but for some reason I'm not as cut up as you would expect me to be..." Kilgarrah motioned for him to continue, his eyes twinkling with an annoying Dumbledore-esque glint. "It's just that...when she died... I was just angry. I was angry at her for telling me, but I was angry at myself for not being able to save her, for being asleep in her last moments"  
"Understan-"  
"And then! When I got back to the dorm all I could think about was myself, and how everyone always leaves me! I didn't even think about Freya's family, I was just being really fucking selfish!"  
Kil nodded slowly. "I see. Well young one, it seems as though she wasn't your destiny. Your destiny is waiting for you. For without the other half, one can never truly be whole." He said cryptically.  
Merlin blinked owlishly at him. Maybe he was a lightweight, and was completely and utterly smashed, but then again he'd had more than three pints when he and Will had gone through a 'rebellious' phase back when they were sixteen. So no, that couldn't be it. Maybe he had passed out and was having the oddest dream ever -  
"You're not dreaming Merlin." Kil said amusedly.  
Merlin blushed. "Right. Well. I have no clue what you just meant, so I'm just going to have another pint. Thanks"  
Kil laughed loudly as he continued to ply Merlin with alcohol until he had gotten sufficiently drunk.  
"Hey - hic - has anyone ever - hic - told you - hic - that you look like John Hurt?" Merlin burst into raucous giggles and almost fell off his stool, only to find a warm hand gripping his elbow, keeping him off the ground.  
"Thanks a lot Kil" a voice sighed from above Merlin's head. "He's gonna hate you tomorrow"  
"Somehow I think he'll be back" kil grinned in a positively creepy way.  
Merlin twisted himself around, so that he was staring at the person holding him up. He giggled. "Hi Lance!" He cried like a five year old. Lance looked down at now upside down Merlin and smiled fondly. Although they had only really spoken in their Biology class, he felt a strange surge of affection for the clumsy boy. He didn't know much about merlin but he was a Knight, and he took the noble and protective role very seriously. So with a smile, he helped Merlin stumble out of the pub and started to walk him back to the dorms.  
"Gwen's lucky to have you" Merlin blurted out randomly. "Oooo a lamppost! Lampposts are really fun to swing round, don't you think? It's like flying!" With that, Merlin launched himself at the pole and started to swing around it with, Lance had to admit, the grace of a pole dancer, not that he'd ever seen one...  
Merlin stopped suddenly. "Let's make fireworks!"  
Lance frowned, "But we don't have any."  
Merlin beckoned him closer. "Ssssshhhhhh I has ma - magics powersss" he slurred into Lance's ear.  
Lance nodded, playing along. "Of course you do Mer-"  
Merlin stuck out his palm and his eyes flashed gold. Lance's eyes widened comically as he sat down on the floor and stared in awe at the multitude of colours flashing from Merlin's hand. Merlin laughed joyfully before promptly passing out on top of Lance.  
"Woah." Was all Lance could say as Merlin snored loudly against his chest.

When Merlin woke up, it was to an agonising headache that he swiftly utilised as a deterrent from dwelling upon his nightmares. Dismissing the flashing eyes and whispered words that didn't sound English at all, disregarding dead eyes that gazed up at him that he thought were Freya's before he realised it was a man, a man whispering his name-

"Merlin?"

Fuck. No, he didn't want to see Arthur, he didn't want to speak to him or acknowledge him for a while - he just didn't want to be around him. With a broken sigh that escaped through quivering lips, Merlin shook his head slowly and burrowed into his pillows.

"All right, listen, just drink this water. We couldn't find any pain killers," Arthur said quietly, unusually mindful of Merlin's headache, and so Merlin's confusion prompted him to raise his head and glance up to find Arthur hovering a few feet away from him. As soon as he looked at him, Arthur averted his gaze. "Gwaine suggested beer," he said with a derisive snort, rubbing his palms against his jeans. "If you don't stay sober, you won't know you've got a headache, he said." He shook his head, grimacing. "Don't know how I'm friends with the idiot."

"Gwaine's a nice guy," Merlin said hoarsely after a pause. He wasn't sure if he should say it since he and Gwaine weren't really friends as much as acquaintances, but Gwaine had always been cordial towards him and got Jake to back off.

Arthur frowned at that and Merlin looked away, drinking the water instead of looking at Arthur, but when he looked up through his lashes Arthur looked more thoughtful than anything.

He always seemed to frown when he thought. Merlin always wanted to say it was because he lacked the brain capacity to do it, but really, it was kind of-

"He's a complete twat," said Arthur, sniffing decisively and rubbing his nose before standing. "We've got canoeing today," he said, obstinately not looking down at Merlin, who inwardly cursed whatever deity may exist. "So get ready, we've got to meet at the river." With a stiff nod, Arthur yanked on a hoodie and left from the cabin, the door slamming behind him and making Merlin's head implode.

What a wanker.

Holding back the urge to vomit-preferably in Arthur's bed-Merlin hauled himself out of bed, washed quickly, and threw on the warmest clothes he had, which were still threadbare and thin. Had to do, though, even if Arthur took the piss out of him. Because Arthur was just-

-just outside the door.

Merlin blinked owlishly when he left to find Arthur leaning against the wall, arms folded, before standing as if at attention in the military when Merlin existed. "Er..."

"I thought we could walk together," Arthur said flippantly, looking bored despite his tense shoulders. "You'd probably get lost, otherwise."

Merlin raised a brow. That was probably true, but Arthur wouldn't know that. He did dread the map-reading exercise they'd face tomorrow, but right now he was just hoping nobody would drown while canoeing. He briefly entertained a mental escapade of saving Arthur's stupid arse, only realising he'd been chortling when Arthur smirked at him.

"Yeah. Uh, sure. I wouldn't get lost though, but okay. Sure," he stuttered, stumbling over his words, and felt strangely light when Arthur laughed.

Stupid Arthur.


End file.
